


Help Me I'm Feeling!

by Kawaiibooker



Series: Xmas Supply Drop [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Also featuring: Grinch Kaz, Christmas Presents, Gen, Kid Fic, Single Dad Kaz: Tactical Parenting Action, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and a Game Boy, and a dog named Pocky, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: Christmas is the bane of Master Miller's existence but for Catherine, he'll give it his best shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaerle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaerle/gifts).



> Written for [2016 Xmas MGS Supply Drop](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2016_xmas_supply_drop). Beta-read by getrekteli.
> 
> Prompt: "Kaz (Master Miller) plays a Gameboy and experiences a brief period of happiness in his life."
> 
> Merry Christmas!

For Miller, Christmas is always a hard time.

Of course the notion of it had never been part of his everyday life. Sure, there had been the occasional Christmas party with MSF and later Diamond Dogs – Big Boss, no matter which one, had always enjoyed it; one of the few similarities between the two, Miller thinks bitterly – but even going back to his childhood, it had never been a tradition he consistently kept. There simply never had been enough money for presents, or decorations, or anything else that made Christmas what it's supposed to be.

Then came Nadine and, years later, Catherine. And even if Miller willingly transferred custody to his ex-wife after the divorce, Catherine was and will always be his little girl. When Nadine suggested a year ago he should take her in over the holidays, Miller had accepted without much of a fuss. After all Alaskan winters are harsh, but undeniably beautiful.

They'd celebrated around a small tree which he'd half-heartedly decorated, after eating the duck which turned out alright, given he hadn't cooked in who knows how long... with one catch: Catherine had decided to be a vegetarian in the time they hadn't seen each other. They'd ordered pizza, then, and her portion of Christmas dinner had been stored away in the fridge where it sat long after she'd gone, sad and untouched.

In short: Christmas had been a disaster that year.

If there's one thing life hadn't managed to beat out of Miller, it's his will to keep going, to never give up. So he'd asked, carefully, if Catherine would be interested in returning to his place over Christmas and despite her clear reluctance she agreed.

 _This year_ , Miller vows quietly to himself, _I'll pull out all the stops_. Folding the colorful advertisement he found in his mailbox that morning, he grabs his car keys and wallet and stuffs them into the pockets of his jacket, stepping out into the cold with a new goal in mind.

*

 _Thank God for Nadine._ It's a thought Miller's had often these past few years and seeing her now, gently pushing Catherine in his direction before she rights herself and smiles at him, brings it back with a vengeance. The movement with which she tucks her shoulder-long brown hair behind her ear is so familiar it hurts and yet...

Miller's a wreck, with or without her; the only difference is that this way, he's not dragging her down with him. _It's for the best._ He reminds himself of that every day.

“Come on, honey, go say hi to Dad.”

With Catherine's shy gaze on him, Miller makes an effort to smile and reaches out for her. The difference between his hands – one organic, one bionic – stays hidden by sleek-black leather gloves.

It takes a moment more for Catherine to let go of her mother's hand and step up to her father. “Hi Dad”, she mumbles more to the ground than him but Miller crouches down to answer in kind, anyways.

“Hey, Cat. Good to see you.” Miller hesitates before he places his hands on her shoulder, keeping the touch light. “Wanna go inside? Pocky should be around somewhere.”

At the mention of his dog – a mild-tempered female Siberian Husky, which Catherine named after her favorite sweet – she beams, making to race inside. She stops, though, hugging him awkwardly after a moment's consideration. “Good to see you too”, she whispers then she's gone, the excited tap of her feet fading quickly. Soon after a dog barks. Miller chuckles. _Pocky has been found._

“Well, so much for that”, Nadine says, eyes shining with contained laughter. “As long as there's a dog...”

Miller straightens up, patting snow from his legs. “Seems like we have that in common, at least.”

“Seems like it.” Being married to him has made Nadine immune to his cynicism. She comes closer, crossing her arms to conserve body warmth. Miller nods towards the door, a worldless invitation that's declined with a small headshake. “Family's waiting, sorry. You know my parents, sticklers for punctuality and such.”

“Yeah, that's one way to put it.”

It's quiet for a few seconds. Miller watches their breaths create hazy clouds in the cold air, dissipating like smoke from a cigar. He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought.

“Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“You're doing okay... Right?”

Miller glances up, finds a level of concern he doesn't deserve on her face. “Yeah.” He exhales with another cigar-smoke cloud and nods. “Yeah, I'm alright. No need to worry 'bout me, Nad. I'll take good care of Catie this time, I promise.”

“I wasn't–“ Nadine sighs. She checks her watch. “Listen, I gotta go but take care, okay? You'll do great with her.” Reaching out, she squeezes his forearm, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Gimme a call if anything comes up.”

“Will do”, Miller mumbles, returning the kiss. “I'll, uh, get Catie, then.”

Actually getting Catherine is harder than he thought. After a minute or two he simply follows the rhythmic _thump-thump-thump_ of a dog's tail against furniture, finding Catherine happily rubbing Pocky's belly in the living room. Only when he promises she can go back to cuddling her does Catherine follow him back out to get her stuff and say goodbye to her mother.

Things are quiet after that. As promised Catherine goes back to Pocky while Miller brings her bag to the guest room, somewhat proud of himself for tidying it up in time. Unlike last year, where most of his things were still in boxes from his recent move, the bookshelves are filled with books and old VHS tapes while his walls are decorated with both mementos from his previous units as well as movie posters. Miller's no architect but he tried to make the best of his limited options to give it a welcoming touch.

Placing the bag on the foot end of the bed, Miller sits down and takes a moment to breathe, calm his nerves. Catherine will stay four days in total, counting the 23rd, which is today. He watches his daughter play with Pocky through the door left wide open.

 _It'll be fine_ , he tells himself, hoping that he'll remain in the right by the end of the week.

*

“Hey, Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering... Do you think Santa could come a day earlier, maybe?”

Miller looks up from the vegetarian curry he's making, eyebrows raised in surprise. He thinks a while, then: “Hah, well... You're asking the wrong guy here, Cat. I don't know Santa's plans. Seems like he's pretty busy this time of year, though.”

Waiting for her lunch, Catherine leans on her hands, pouting a little. “I _know_ but... I mean... He _could_ , right? Maybe not a day but like, a few hours?”

The pout turns to full-blown puppy eyes. Miller swallows. Puppy-eyes are his weakness – coming from Catherine, they're like a nuke aimed straight at his defenses.

“Um. I guess? Let's see: Have you been good this year?”

“Yeah! I went to school and did all my homework! I even..” Catherine deflates a little, dropping her gaze to the empty plate in front of her. “I even ignored what the kids were saying at school, like you told me to.”

Miller's glad she's not looking at him or else she would've seen his face twist in anger. The day she'd finally confessed what those brats had called her in class was the day Miller stopped going to parent-teacher conferences. He didn't trust himself around their parents.  _Racist assholes._

“You know”, he says, taking her plate and piling it with curry and rice before he fills his own. “I think I might get Santa to agree. To come earlier, I mean.”

Catherine's head snaps up, eyes wide. Miller can't help himself: He smiles, nodding when she asks “Really?!” in disbelief.

“That's so _cool_ – Oh! We need to put out milk and extra cookies! Where are the coo–?”

She's half out her chair but Miller rests a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back down with gentle force. “Calm down, kiddo. Let's take care of our stomachs before we think of Santa's, okay?”

In all his years in the military, Miller has never seen anyone wolf down food as fast as Catherine does there and then. He shakes his head.

_That's my girl._

*

Catherine's watch over the Christmas tree – properly decorated this time with a star on top, bright red bulbs and lametta hanging from its rich branches – is difficult to break. Only by offering to watch a movie in his room, then excusing himself for a bathroom break does Miller find a suitable window to slip her presents under the tree.

Job done, he returns to her side. Catherine barely waits for the credits of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ to start rolling before she jumps up and races down the hall, squealing in delight at the sight that awaits her there.

“He came– Dad, look!”

Miller chuckles under his breath, “I'm coming, Cat”, soon joined by a worried-looking Pocky. He gives his dog a calming pat, allowing her to sit on the armchair with him. It's a predictably tight squeeze, Pocky's paws digging uncomfortably into his lap but as a experienced dog person it doesn't really bother him.

Kneeling on the blanket around the tree, Catherine takes one of her presents and inspects it from all sides with narrowed eyes. “I doubt Santa's present is a bomb”, Miller comments drily, lips twitching into a slight smirk at her annoyed eye-roll.

“I was _trying_ to guess what's inside”, she grumbles, flicking her black hair back. She picks at a corner of the wrapping and tears it open with a satisfying ripping sound. Once she sees what's inside, the rest of it follows quickly; “No way!”, she whispers reverently, turning the now-uncovered box of a new Game Boy Advance.

The second present is treated to a similar fate, revealing the silver packaging of the newest _Pokémon_ game. The look of utter shock on Catherine's face is quite entertaining to watch. Miller smiles to himself.

“And?”, he prompts, nonetheless finding her prolonged speechlessness a little worrying. “Was it what you wished for?”

“...Are you kidding?!”

Miller's smile falls. “Oh. Catie, listen–“

“This is way better!” With a giddy laugh, Catherine starts opening the boxes with an efficiency Miller finds admirable, heart soaring in relief. Squinting at the back of her Game Boy, she reads the instructions. “Batteries... Batteries! You got some, right, Dad?”

The urgency in her eyes cannot be denied and thus, Miller pats Pocky to get her off his lap. “On it, Boss”, he jokes, jogging to the kitchen under Catherine's excited “Go go go!”. Batteries retrieved, they figure out how to turn the device on together, watching the screen light up in wonder.

“Huh. It's in color.”

“ _Duh._ ”

“Hey, don't 'duh' me–“

“It got stuck.”

“What?”

“It's stuck!”

Miller frowns. “Did you put in the game?”

“Oh. Wait.”

Catherine unpacks _Pokémon Silver_ and puts the cartridge in the slot. Nothing happens.

“Hm. Turn it off and on, maybe?”

She does and _voilá_ , they get past the start-up screen. Actually playing the game is uncharted territory for them both, with Kaz's last console being the old arcades they had in Outer Heaven while Catherine has never owned any herself. They work through it, though, eventually migrating to the couch to be more comfortable.

Of course, two people playing a single-player game always leads to problems in decision making. The character's name is no problem – they easily settle for 'Max', like the Grinch's dog – but their first Pokémon turns out to be a bigger discussion, with Catherine favoring Chikorita while Miller favors Totodile.

It's an argument he loses after Catherine's killer argument that “Santa gave this to _me_ , so it's _my_ game and _my_ Pokémon, Dad”, to which Miller can't really counter anything, so Chikorita it is.

They play deep into the night. Miller's not really surprised to see Catherine grow tired quickly after the day's events, the Game Boy almost falling out of her hands by the time he decides to call it a night. “Mmm no”, she slurs in her sleep when he picks her up, clinging to his shirt and rubbing her face on his shoulder. “Wanna keep playin'...”

“You can play some more tomorrow, sweetie. C'mon, time for bed.”

Catherine is quiet for a while, drifting off. It's when she's safely tucked in, face half-buried in her pillow that she mumbles, “Dad?”

Miller hums, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What is it?”

“I think...”, a long yawn, “I think Santa forgot to eat his cookies.”

He laughs, low and genuine. “I think he might've, yeah. I'll tell him the next time I see him.”

“Promise?”

“Promise”, he whispers, seeing Catherine is already fast asleep.

After getting ready for bed himself, Miller sits down on his bed to take off his prosthetics. Rubbing his eyes that hurt after focusing on a tiny screen for so long, he looks up as Pocky comes in with shuffling steps.

“What do you think, Pocky?” He reaches out to scratch her chin. Pocky wags her tail. “Maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used getrekteli's HC for Catherine here, which is that she's half-Japanese and adopted (since Kaz is infertile since TPP). This fic is set in 2002, so she's ~8 years old.
> 
> Also, please listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaUftlq7pMc) and die from nostalgia with me.


End file.
